


The Witch's Way

by LuckyLadyLily



Series: The Dragon's Tribute [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fantasy AU, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Witch Moira, Young Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, winston is a cat again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 01:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21467761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyLadyLily/pseuds/LuckyLadyLily
Summary: "They are afraid of what you are Angela. You don’t have to be."
Series: The Dragon's Tribute [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1316411
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The Witch's Way

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic to Dragon's Tribute. I think this should be fine as a starting point, but I wrote the first 15 chapters of DT first, so if you want the 'authentic' reading order read through DT 15 first.
> 
> Most chapters will not hit an M rating, but there will be some stuff on that level later on.
> 
> I've been planning this for a long time! I am excited to finally start posting it. This first chapter could probably use one more once over but perfect is the enemy of finished, so her we are. Hope you like it!

"Angela, what are we going to do with you?" Mrs. Susan asked, shaking her head. She had a hand on Angela's arm and was leading her along towards Angela's room - as if Angela would actually think about running off. Angela didn't like being in trouble, she never wanted it, trouble just happened to her.

Angela didn't say anything. There wasn't anything that she could say. 

"Your just lucky the only person who saw was Mrs. Boyle. If another student saw what you did! Well I really don't know what could happen."

She led Angela to her bedroom and opened the door. Angela went inside, eager to show that she wasn't trying to be difficult.

"I'll go talk to the staff, see if I can smooth things over. But if these things keep happening…" Mrs. Susan sighed. "I'll be back soon.  _ Stay here _ ." She said, closing the door. Angela heard a loud  _ shick _ as the door to her room was locked. Angela clenched her fists, grit her teeth, and stomped back to her bed, grabbing a pillow to muffle a frustrated stream of curse words. When she was done swearing she threw the pillow back onto the bed, stomped over to her desk, and sat down as angrily as she could manage.

The room itself was not there problem. A desk for studying, a bed for sleeping, a wardrobe and chest for Angela's things, and a window to let in a bit of sun. Angela would have preferred a bit more color, but it was comfortable enough. But behind a locked door it became a cage.

The Sacred Hearts Girls Academy very much valued its reputation as a modern institution on the forefront of educational thinking. Nobles from all around the area would send their daughters here to have them properly educated, and as such they did not believe in the crude discipline measures employed by  _ lesser _ schools. Instead trouble makers would find themselves writing lines, being subjected to endless lectures on proper behavior, or locked in their rooms to reflect on their poor behavior. 

It all sounded good but Angela knew that the real goal was to make her as miserable as possible so wouldn't step out of line again. That's why Mrs. Susan always locked Angela in her room, Angela had once made the mistake of admitting that she hated it. She could never get all the things that could go wrong while she was trapped like this out of her head, and whatever Mrs. Susan told the parents Angela couldn't see her running back into a burning building to unlock her door.

"It wouldn't be much of a punishment if you got to choose what your punishment was. If you don't want this to happen then you will think twice next time." Mrs. Susan had said. Ever since she had made a point of using this particular punishment.

It was ridiculous and completely unfair. It wasn't as if Angela ever tried to get in trouble. The magic just built up inside her and something would happen and it would explode. She never had control over it, she never tried to use it. But they never listened!

Angela kicked the wall in frustration. It wasn't fair. Nothing was  _ ever _ fair. Things had been hard when it had been just her and mom, "but at least we always have each other." She had said.

Then there was the fire and Angela was alone.

After the fire no one wanted her. More accurately not one wanted a witch; That is all anyone saw after they found out. She had been passed between relatives for weeks until they had been able to arrange a place for her at the academy. Now that they were rid of her no one bothered to check in. No one ever visited. She had never even gotten a letter.

Nothing was ever fair.

It was at least a few hours before Mrs. Susan came back. Angela had been laying on her bed staring at the ceiling. She sat up on the edge of the bed as the door unlocked and opened.

Mrs. Susan came in with a stern look on her face.

“I’ve talked to the other teachers and I think I have smoothed things over. But we all agree these incidents need to stop. If one of the other students finds out it could be very bad for you Angela. And heaven forbid you accidentally hurt one of them.” She said, shaking her head in exasperation. “I don’t think the other parents would allow their children to be taught alongside a witch.”

"I didn't mean for anything to happen, I didn't want it, I was just so frustrated!" Angela said.

"You can't use magic. You know that." Mrs. Susan said.

"I was just trying to clean the dishes and it was taking so long. It just sort of happened." Angela said miserably. "I didn't mean it."

She sat down next to Angela.

"Witch magic is poison. I know it feels right but it is evil. It tempts you will small things. Maybe you could clean faster with a little magic, but all that does is teach you to cheat instead of relying on hard work like you should."

Angela fought back tears.

"You are lucky we live in more enlightened times, we know it isn't your fault that you were made like this. If you work hard enough then you will be able to hide it, maybe even get rid of it entirely. You will be normal and things will get better. You are a pretty and bright girl, in time you'll make a lovely wife and be happy. But if people find out you are a witch none of that will happen. No one will want you."

She knew everything by heart by now. She was lucky that the school had been willing to take her in. Most people wouldn't be willing to put up with a case like her's. She should be thankful and do better. Make the most of her real talents, and push away the useless and evil parts of herself, everyone had their trials. Angela's were just a little harder.

The lecture dragged on for what seemed like hours. The sun slowly crawled across the ground then onto the wall. Angela tried to pay attention and listen. She didn't want to be a bad person, she just didn't understand why using her magic was so bad, especially if it was just too help. And she tried to stop it from happening, she didn’t know how.

She tried not to cry. She didn't want to cry. But it was so hard to sit still and listen, she just wanted to be anywhere else. She couldn’t always stop it.

"Oh, Angela. Don't cry." Mrs. Susan said. Angela resisted the urge to flinch when she touched her face, wiping away the tears. She could have done that herself, Angela didn't like being touched. She shouldn't be mad. Mrs. Susan was just trying to make her feel better.

_ What is wrong with me? _

"I don't try to be bad." Angela said.

"Don't worry, I am not angry." She said, pulling Angela into a hug. This time Angela did flinch, and she couldn't manage to untense herself.

"You aren’t bad. You just have something bad inside you.” She said before finally letting Angela go.

“I’ll let the headmaster know I’ve taken care of the situation. You just try to feel better, alright?”

Angela nodded, rubbing her tears away herself now.

“Ma’am, can I go for a walk?”

“You want to go to Mr. Lindholm’s?” 

“Mmm-hmm.” Angela said, nodding again.

“That’s fine. Just don’t stay too late.”

\---

Angela was grateful for the boarding school. She really was. She was grateful for the warm place to sleep, and she was grateful that she could get books and for all the things they taught her. But it could feel stifling, sometimes she had to get away.

The boarding school was in the upper class area of the city. The guards patrolled regular here so it was safe enough that a young girl could wander around unattended, at least during daytime hours. Angela had explored as far around the school as she was allowed to go. She knew every path, shortcut, and shop. Her favorite place was the Lindholm Tavern, an upscale pub run by a former soldier and his family.

The patrons of the tavern were of the more respectable sort and brought stories from all over the world. Before it got too late things were pretty calm and Angela enjoyed asking the customers to tell her stories. The owners of the tavern, Torbjörn and Ingrid Lindholm, made an extra effort to make her feel welcome and it was a rare drunk who didn't appreciate an attentive audience for their tall tales.

Angela made her way along the familiar roads towards the tavern. The sun was still high in the sky but she didn't want to waste her free time. to the tavern and pushed open the heavy doors. A rich aroma of cooking stew greeted her as she stepped inside. As usual it was mostly empty at this time of day with only a few scattered patrons. Ingrid was cooking stew in a huge pot while Torbjörn was at the bar scowling as he looked over some papers. He looked up to the open door and his eyes brightened when he saw Angela. 

“Angie! Come and save me from these damned forms.”

Ingrid looked over her shoulder and gave Angela a warm smile and a nod as Angela made her way to the bar and got up on a stool.

"Hello Mr. Lindholm. Hello Mrs. Lindholm.”

“How has your day been?” Ingrid asked.

“Not so good. I got in trouble."

"Well that's alright, it's good for little girls to get in trouble sometimes. Gives you stories to tell." Torbjörn insisted.

"I'm not a little girl, I'm twelve." She said, rolling her eyes but smiling. "And Mrs. Susan didn't think it was alright."

"Of course she didn't, she's the one that has to deal with the trouble!" He said with a laugh. "Gave you one of her lectures?"

"Yeah…"

"I think they are too hard on you." He said sternly. "Ya have to let kids be kids. I doubt you are getting into anything as bad as what I did when I was your age. Did I ever tell you about the time I stole wine from the church?”

Angela giggled. 

“You tell that one all the time!”

“Well how bout the time I set my dad’s wagon on fire?”

“Yep.”

“How about when I won a kiss from Ingrid?” he said with a wink.

“I don’t think I have heard that one.” Angela said.

“Dear, I will make you sleep on the floor.” Ingrid said sweetly, scooping a large helping of stew into a bowl.

“Guess I’m not allowed to tell that one.” He said. “I’ll tell you later.” he added in a whisper.

“Can you test the stew Angela? Let me know if it is coming out fine.” Ingrid said, placing a large bowl of stew in front of her.

Ingrid’s stew was always excellent, and Angela ate happily while she watched Torbjörn and Ingrid go about the little, everyday tasks that it took to run the tavern.

"Mew!"

Angela looked down. There was a tiny grey kitten looking up at her. It pawed at her leg.

"Mew!" It said insistently.

"Hello little guy." She said. 

She got off her stool and knelt down next to the kitten, reaching down and holding out a hand. The little grey kitten awkwardly stepped over to Angela and pressed it's face into her hand.

"Mew!" The kitten said as she picked it up. It curled up against her close and started to purr. 

“Where is your owner, little kitty?” Angela asked. She stood up and looked at Torbjörn.

“It isn’t ours.” He said. “Been meaning to get a cat for mice though. Is it a stray?”

“No, he has a collar.” Angela said. 

She looked back across the tavern. Near the back there was a tall, thin woman with pale skin and blazing red hair messily swept back. She wore a patch over one eye and wore a strange long coat with sleeves that hung wide open at the wrists like a monk's robes. She had an otherworldly beauty to her that made Angela recall the stories she had read of elves and far, an effect that was slightly marred by her currently searching under tables and chairs with an annoyed expression. Angela approached the woman with the kitten in her arms.

“Excuse me ma’am, is this kitten yours?” She asked.

“Ah, there you are.” She said smiling. “Thank you, I turned away for a moment and he was gone.”

The woman reached out and took the cat, holding him up in front of her.

“Running off like that is dangerous. What happens if you get lost? Silly cat.” She said, placing the kitten on the table. It turned back to Angela and stepped to the very edge of the table mewling insistently.

“He’s very cute.” Angela asked. 

“He appears to have taken a liking to you. Would you like to sit and play with him for a while? As long as I know where he is I don’t mind.”

Angela smiled excitedly, taking a seat and picking up the kitten again, petting it while it meowed.

“What is his name?”

"I don't know, he won't tell me. He’s a stubborn thing." the woman said, watching the cat swat at one of Angela’s fingers.

Angela rolled her eyes. 

"I'm not a little kid. I'm not going to believe silly things."

"Of course. I apologize, young lady." The woman said, grinning down at Angela. Angela was struck by how pretty she was and felt an odd nervousness in her stomach at the smile. She looked back down at the cat.

“I have not named him yet. Any suggestions?”

"Hmm…" 

Angela held the cat up above her with both her hands, looking up at him from a different angle. The cat mewled happily. 

"You're Winston, aren't you?"

"Mew!"

"Yep, Winston it is." Angela said, holding the cat close to her chest and scratching its back. The cat purred happily. If Angela had not been so focused on the kitten she might have noticed the thoughtful look that passed over the woman’s face.

“My name is Moira.” She said.

“I’m Angela.”

"Angela, do you like books?" Moira asked.

"I like reading. I read a lot." Angela said. "The teachers say I read better than anyone at the school, even better than the older students. They say I have a gift." She said proudly.

"You know, I think they might be right. Angela, I have a special book. I think you might like it."

Moira pulled a book from her bag. It was an old leather bound book, but it had clearly been made to last. It looked expensive and didn’t have a title on the cover but it did have a buckle holding it shut.

"When I was your age my mom gave this to me. I think you should have it." Moira said, placing the book in front of Angela.

"But if your mom gave it to you shouldn't you keep it? I don't have anything left from my mom…" Angela said.

"It is a practical book meant to be read and used. I don’t need it anymore so it is time I gave it to someone else. It is a tradition. You can have the book now and someday you can pass it on too. Take a look, see if you think you might be interested."

A tradition book. That was interesting. Angela placed Winston down in her lap and took the book, unbuckling it and opening it. There wasn't a title page and it looked more like a journal than a normal book. Inside the cover were a dozen or so names written in a variety of different hands. The first were long faded, but at the bottom of the list there was the name Moira O'Deorain. Angela flipped the page and started reading.

_ This book is a practical guide for young witches - _

Angela slammed the book shut, her eyes wide. She looked up at Moira who gave her a wink.

"I'd keep it a secret if I were you."

"But I'm not supposed to, it's bad-"

"People hate what they don't understand, but that doesn't mean what we are is evil.” Moira said in a quiet voice. “They are afraid of what you are. You don’t have to be."

Angela put the book down, scooped Winston out of her lap and put him down on the table while he meowed in protest.

“Thank you, but I should probably go finish my dinner.” Angela said, standing up from the chair and turning to flee back to Torbjörn and Ingrid.

The rest of the night Angela stole glances back at Moira. She never looked her way, she never made any move to catch Angela’s attention again, but once or twice Angela swore she saw Moira explaining something to Winston. Angela had the distinct impression that the cat was listening.


End file.
